Playing with friends is awesome, even more so when what you play is Paint Ball! My group of friends and I like to do a bi-weekly game of paint ball after classes, it’s a good work out and it helps to let off some steam. Our passion for the game grew to a point where we bought our own gear; we stopped using rentals and began building our own little battlefield.
We eventually found a dilapidated building where we could play, even at night. It was a bit creepy and dangerous, we did try our best to cover up a few holes and even set what areas we could play in without much worry. It was fun to take cover around the pillars of the structure and a few barricades we made out of wood.
No one really came by, and the place was isolated enough that we could be as loud as we wanted without calling for attention. We even thought of holding matches with some of the other guys from the field we used to play in, but common sense said otherwise. I guess most of us knew the broken down building had to someone’s property. Adding more people to the felony list wasn’t going to help; besides this was our thing.
The building had its downside, just like any good thing does. It seemed like it was used to hold raves or it was used like a motel by hobos. We had to clear a few pieces of debris a few time, some assholes apparently took to smashing the walls and anything left inside the building with a sledge hammer, which was the case with our barricades. Rebuilding and cleaning the place became a small hobby, but damn it this place was ours!
One night we started playing around with a pair of night vision goggles, we made a deal not to shoot the guy wearing them to avoid any accidents. We took turns using them and played a little game, no one but the guy with the goggles was allowed to shoot. The idea was that whoever remained hidden in the building without being hit would win.
I was winning so far, but I had to move out from my hiding place. I made a dash to a new hiding spot once “the hunter” turned around, I tripped and he turned back quickly. He fired blindly…straight into my crotch.
It stung so badly I was reduced to tears in seconds, he shot me from a short distance so the impact was dead on. My friends carried me like a woman in labor onto the back of a car since I couldn’t walk. Our kick ass night turned into a short stay at the hospital, followed by lots of snickering as I iced my swollen testicle.
The guys stayed over since they felt guilty, but I knew they just wanted to enjoy the kick they got out of my misfortune. I guess it can all be summed up by the way one of them put it, “Last night was a ball!” Indeed, thanks for the shattered hopes of parenthood.